1 Occulus

C. Seamus Hermoso

One seemingly innocent Sunday morning, Carlos Decascos hummed his way to James Florentin's flat. Three blocks was a good enough exercise for Carlos. At least, three blocks away were what he remembered. He has only been at James' once or twice, to think that they have known each other for four years now, and have been competitive classmates occasionally in some subjects. Come to think of it, Carlos didn't know anyone who was James' friend. In Carlos' point of view, James wasn't the type who had the typical set of friends. Not that he was a nerd, but that he was, in many ways, different.

While the rest of the university the two were studying in up until a month ago was out partying with who-knows-what and god-knows-where, James took his interest in human behavior a million steps ahead. He joined organizations like Order of the Black Ram, a satanic pseudo-religion, Circle of Wicca, a pagan group studying ancient and modern witchcraft, and the Elus-Cohens Architects of the Universe, a branch of the Freemasons. Having been brought up in a rural town, Carlos never imagined the capabilities of esoteric societies in real life up until he was paired with James during an Anthropology field activity and they started talking. Carlos' eyes were opened to extreme possibilities with James' interesting ideas on almost everything.

And now, here he was, skipping to James' place so giddily his vitality was starting to tick himself off. As he skipped past two white-haired men that stared at him like he had the number 666 tattooed on his forehead, he decided to resume his casual walking and wondered once more why James invited him over out of the blue.

"Please come over, now. I have to tell you something." James had said softly, as if gasping, in the most hurried and discreet manner. If only I had something better to do, Carlos thought to himself as he pressed the doorbell to James'. However, being a fresh Political Science graduate without any concrete plan whatsoever entitled him enough hours of boredom a week, so seeing James would already be a breath of invigorating air.

Carlos has lost track of the time he has been standing outside the blue front door. Having rang the doorbell over nine times already, he was about to give up when he noticed that the door wasn't shut tight. Nonchalantly, he gave it a mild push to reveal the messiest room he has ever seen, to think he used to live in a frat-house.

Household furnishings were upturned and strewn across the room like pieces of clothing on a teen's. As he shakily tried to make his way about the place, he caught something at the corner of his eye, something as velvet red as an old woman's lipstick. He walked closer to investigate; and as he was able to make out the figure slumped beside James' bed, he began to wish he hadn't. The eclectic outfit the body had on seemed like it was something James would wear, but other than that, Carlos would never have known. James' face, if it was James, was not there. It was scraped off, painstakingly peeled from the skin.

Before Carlos could react or move, he heard loud thumps from behind him. It was bound to be the last thumping sounds he would hear in a long while, as everything suddenly turned black for Carlos.

A bright white fluorescent light was the first thing I saw as my eyelids parted. Instinctively, I squinted, and turned my head to the left, where I faced this blank wall.

Where am I? I racked my brains for whatever it was that I could possibly have been doing last, or anything to remember for that matter. My name, at least that would get me started. Carlos Decascos. I breathed a sigh of relief. For a brief moment there I was stricken with panic that I might not even recall that.

I turned to the other side and saw only a few things in this claustrophobic space I wouldn't call a room: the bed I am lying down on, a white urinal, a white sink, and an empty wooden table and chair. I have never seen so much white in my life, but it's not as if I am sure of much as of this instance. It dawned on me slowly, me entering this disordered apartment and the blur of things I saw after such. Now, when was that again? And more importantly, when is now?

I found myself struggling to move into a sitting position, and my jaw drops as I realize I am wrapped in a straightjacket. Amazing to think how I have gone from seeing straightjackets on TV, directly to wearing one. Although in due time, I learned that there were endless surprises for me to encounter in this windowless, barren area.

"I really, really have to leave. I'll give you my part tomorrow." James declared, closing his bound notebook, revealing a logo with a face on the cover.

Carlos glared at the notebook's cover. "Eww. Whose' face is that? How could you carry that around?"

Lifting his bag off the floor and stuffing his notebook in it, James grunted. "It's my Elus-Cohens binder. We believe that the face is a symbol of identity. Something we value in this oppressive, materialistic world. Your own choice, your own rules."

"Okay, I know you don't like the Church, but don't get all preach-y on me. Come on dude. We have to do more research. Why do you have to leave so soon anyway?" Carlos asked as he turned to James, who was on the table with him. "You have a date or something?"

"Or something. My rank in the Elus-Cohens will be promoted tonight. I'm going to be a Magus," James proudly announced. He stood up right after he gathered his things and nodded.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. "What's with that anyway? It's not like you will get known worldwide for that."

It was a remark that made James stop dead on his tracks. "Huh. That's what you think. With that, I can have access to the ancient archives, conduct meetings and select my disciples, and personally have an appointment with the Grand Master."

"Okay. Stop now. It's something I'd rather not know." Carlos muttered, raising a hand to his face. "You go now be with your cult people, my lord."

James smiled. "First and foremost, we aren't just a cult. Secondly, you better not let anyone from Elus-Cohens hear you, Carlos my boy. They could make you cease to exist anytime they want to." With that, he waved and started walking away.

Is that it? Have I ceased to exist? I made a face, which seemed pointless since no one was there with me. I only see two people everyday, the one who brings me my meals, and the one looking more on the doctor side, checking up on me every so often. Although, everyday is too harsh a word since my time and date orientations are completely confused.

They were always both in white; and we hardly say anything to each other. The first time the doctor-ish person talked to me, I kept on nagging him on the specifics of my situation and I all I got was a, "By next week you will be allowed to join the others for an hour a day." Ever since, being the arrogant person that I am, I didn't say much anymore.

Years seemed to have passed when a new person entered my room. He had a huge built and looked every bit a Colombian drug lord. I was about to hide under the bed as he was leaning over to me, until I realized he was trying to take off my straightjacket.

"I don't need that straightjacket you know. I am perfectly fine." I stretched my arms until they hurt, and that felt very rejuvenating.

Drug lord man here held me by the arm and assisted me out of the door like I couldn't do it myself. "I'll bring you back here when your time is up. You have an hour."

Like I didn't know that.

The room he brought me in was very much bigger than mine; and there were people, all men, about twenty of them. Oh yes, how I have missed people.

I immediately picked someone I could talk to the minute he left me. However, as I was making my way to him, a man with curly hair reached me first. "You're the latest one here right? What did you do?"

Shaking my head no, I went on with my way to this more credible looking fellow, whom for some reason could perhaps enlighten me.

"Don't bother!" the curly-haired man insisted. "He doesn't speak. Not after he was tortured. He was the editor of the Daily Times, that's why he might seem familiar to you."

I turned to face him. "What did he do?"

"No one knows what people went through around here. You, what did you do?"

"I have no idea. I just woke up here." It was such a pity this was the only answer I have come up with, having been asking myself the question since I got here.

He snorted, "We all woke up here. No one even knows where here is. I was a homeless man. I chanced upon this warehouse one night, where a lot of people were gathered, chanting incantations. Next thing I know... here. So I ---"

My ears turned deaf when I saw a woman from the corner of my eye. As I turned to look, I was highly shocked to see it was not just any other woman. She was my long-time crush, Leann Fugazi, our history professor. "Ma'am Fugazi! Ma'am Fugazi!" I called out.

She turned to face me, only to continue walking and not give me any light of day whatsoever. While she walked down the hallway, I ran after her, or tried to until two big wardens held me back as I got dangerously close. How strange it was to see a familiar face amidst all these, and how awful it was to be ignored by her.

The two guards pinned me down on this couch and they both sat, sandwiching me in between them. That was how I spent the rest of my free hour.

"Ma'am Fugazi!" Carlos dashed out of the classroom the minute Leann Fugazi walked out and tried to catch up with her. "Maybe you need help with your things."

Leann raised the only book, a thick one, she was holding in her right hand. "This? You want to carry this? I think I can carry it myself. Thank you."

Carlos turned a few shades redder and just smiled as Leann walked away. He was about to turn around when he saw someone approach Leann near the door of the faculty lounge. The two quickly scurried over to a corner and seemed to converse intimately. As he began to make out the features of the man Leann was with, Carlos' eyes widened.

"So James, you making moves on my Fugazi?" Carlos accused James gleefully as they bumped into each other later that day.

James's face wrinkled up. "Huh? You saw that? It's not what you think."

Carlos looked at James straight in the eye. "You know I like her, don't you?"

"I told you. It wasn't like that. You wouldn't know," James started to go on his way and stopped. "Before I forget, we got an A on our Anthro paper."

"Just because you're a Magnum, or a Magoose, or well, whatever you are in that cult of yours doesn't mean you could just change the topic." Carlos shot back, with a smile.

James's face fell. It seemed as if he just froze. "Don't you mention that. Please, Carlos. Please forget about that."

With that, James hurried away into the throng of students and all Carlos could do was look on, puzzled.

I rested my head on my bed and watched the figures play around the formerly unmarked wall next to me. It was a hobby I have acquired. After all, what more could one do in such a desolate room? I have been free of my straightjacket for some time now, yet I realized that with nothing in this place, I might as well wear it again. Everyday, I seem to grow more lethargic than the last.

The door abruptly opened as a figure, again in white, stepped inside and closed the door hastily. The only person of the opposite sex to have entered my room so far. I couldn't recognize her. Someone new, perhaps.

"Carlos Decascos, do you remember me?" the woman inquired sluggishly.

I turned to face her. Familiar features, alright. However, nothing and no one came to mind.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter." She shrugged. "I am here about James. What has he told you?"

Again, the name sounds familiar, but then again James could be the one who gives me my food here for all I know. "James?"

The lady sat down on my chair. "I understand you found James Florentin's deceased body in his apartment last Tuesday."

Oh yeah, that James. I smiled in spite of myself. "He was pretty messed up, such a loathsome sight. The skin on his face was gone. I could have sworn there were maggots in there."

"So, what were you doing there? What has he told you?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

There was a piece of food stuck on her teeth. I laughed heartily.

She stood up and brought out a syringe from her pocket. "What have they been giving you?" She moved closer, turned me over and injected the needle on my back.

I practically screamed after a minute or so of silence, as I was able to behold the figure in front of me. "Ma'am Fugazi! What are you doing here?"

"I know you don't know anything, Carlos. I will get you out." She looked at me with such concern, something I haven't felt in a while.

"What's there to know?" I sat up, not quite sure what to feel. "Please get me out, please. I am not crazy!"

She sat down on the chair. "They are keeping you in here because they think James divulged to you those he found out about Elus-Cohens."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Who's they? I haven't talked to James in ages. Why? What has he discovered?"

"With the access to old archives, he questioned a lot as a Magus. He found articles that dealt with the different entanglements of the Elus-Cohens." Ma'am Fugazi admitted matter-of-factly.

"So Elus-Cohens' behind everything?" In my mind, I struggled to sort out all the things she said.

To my surprise, she disagreed. "The Elus-Cohens is just working under the Illuminati. The Illuminati goes way back. They say it was the propagation of the Kabbala teachings of the Jews that induced Hitler to wipe out the race who supposedly knew of the esoteric arts. He wanted to keep the ancient knowledge to himself and those under his authority"

She went on, "They also say Kennedy's assassination was because of the anti-occult task force that he created. The enforcement kept more eyes open for every movement of the Illuminati."

"Also, do you notice the pyramid with the eye on top in your one dollar bill? Well, they say that since that went out, the US economy boomed like no other. United States was suddenly feared as nation. You see, that symbol is the Illuminati's imprint."

Before I could say anything, she then stood up from the chair. "But hey, these won't matter now, would they? What's important is that I am telling you how to get out of here." Her voice faded slowly as she uttered the last sentence.

"Wait, have they found out who killed him? Why hasn't the policed asked for my statement yet?"

She stared at me skeptically. "Wow, you really don't know anything! A death like James' is one that would never be recorded."

I just leaned onto the wall, dumbfounded.

"Now listen," she went on. "Before I tell you anything worse, listen. When you get to the communal room later, run straight ahead to the hallway. At exactly 6pm, the guards at the front door change shifts. Between 6:00 to 6:01, the doors are unguarded."

With that, my dream girl left as rapidly as she came in.

"Thanks. Until next time!" Carlos grinned as he shut his front door to the pizza deliveryman whom he had been seeing very often in the past month.

He set the pizza down on the table and went back to his personal computer where he was checking his e-mail.

You have one new message.

Well, he thought to himself consolingly, you check e-mail twice a day.

He clicked open the inbox, revealing a new message from a James Florentin.

"Carlos, this is because I trust you. You know what to do." The message had 5 attachments.

He opened the first one: WWII Conspiracies. Then the second: Kennedy's Anti-Occult Program. Then he goes on reading onto, The All Knowing Eye And The Dollar, New World Order, and lastly, Disappearance Of Malaysian Prime Minister Rooted To Freemasons.

Leaning back on his ergonomic chair, he read each one passively. Nodding at times, and yawning every so often. He couldn't quite grasp what each one said, something about whatever power behind everything. Carlos couldn't have been any more vague.

I am getting out! I am getting out! That's all I could mumble under by breath as I slowly trudged across the hallway. 6:00, the clock in the public room declared.

When I saw the unprotected front door, I dashed all the way until I was able to shut the door. As I saw the massive green grass, I inhaled the fresh air.

I halted in my tracks. Now what? There's nothing here. Or so I thought.

I looked around for the nearest gate I could find, and ran towards it. It was black and intricately designed and looked every bit well-equipped of alarms.

Nonetheless, I approached it, running and never looking back. I seemed to run forever and yet the gate wasn't becoming any closer. My vision slowly blurred as I lurched over something on the floor, causing me to fall to my knees; moreover, causing a very loud alarm to ring out all-over the field.

I scampered and continued my running, when I felt two pairs of arms grabbing me from behind. I couldn't see who they were, but their grip was enough for me to almost suffocate. Suffocating me didn't seem to be enough for them however, as I found myself getting dragged across the grass, my feet gathering mud and every known creature that lurked in it.

It was when they set me down inside a vacant, all black room that I got a better look at them. Wrestlers, that's what would best describe them.

A part of the wall opened gradually and this all-too-familiar individual went in.

"Mr. Carlos Decascos, nice to see you here."

I almost stumbled onto the wall behind me. "Where is Ms. Fugazi? Where?"

Mr. Colombia advanced towards my direction. "I'm sorry but we don't know anyone who goes by that name."

I scanned the room for any other way out. I would settle for anything, really. Scampering to the opposite end of the room, I closed my eyes and wished everything away. It has worked well before. Conspicuously, it doesn't now.

"What did you expect to find here, mister? This is a men's asylum. No trace whatsoever of female blood here."

My perspiration was seeping through my pores like water on an overflowing dam, while I cowered in the corner. The Colombian drug lord smirked. "Take Mr. Decascos into the east wing. He seems to not belong here."

I couldn't distinguish anything anymore as the wrestlers dragged me out of the room. The only thing that struck my eye was that the hands that were holding me in the stomach had one ring on his left thumb, one with a logo, with a face.